


well-versed in etiquette

by Biggus Slickus (crownlessliestheking)



Series: at the end of the day [5]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Anger, Brief violent imagery, Diamonds 'I did not sign up for this shit' Droog, Intimidation, M/M, Meet the Family, Passive-aggression, Shovel Talk, Tea, background rosemary - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-26
Updated: 2020-08-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:01:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25755520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crownlessliestheking/pseuds/Biggus%20Slickus
Summary: You know you're gonna have to talk soon, and you know you're gonna have to figure out what the fuck to say, 'cause for all the pretense there's something about her that screams ulterior motives. Sure, your whole damn job is ulterior motives, but what that means is that you're the only one who's allowed to have them.Or, Rose promised a visit, and visit she does. It's more of an ambush, really. Jimmies are rustled.
Relationships: Diamonds Droog/Dirk Strider, Diamonds Droog/Spades Slick/Dirk Strider (Background), Roxy's Mom | Alpha Rose Lalonde & Dirk Strider
Series: at the end of the day [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1821157
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9





	well-versed in etiquette

**Author's Note:**

> I need some kind of ship name for these jokers. The background 3x ship tag is a Struggle to type out. Suggestions?

You know Strider's got some weird habits about his apartment and you usually figure that it's his damn apartment so it ain't your place to comment, but you'll admit to yourself that he looks batshit crazy when he just stops at his own front door and stares at it, suspicious. He's a paranoid bastard, and so's the boss, but the boss ain't ever had an issue with his own front door looking as locked as it should be and entirely fuckin' normal. 

He opens the door, looks inside his apartment, and then promptly shuts it and turns around. You think that you're going to have to draw the line here. Either Slick's rubbing off on him (you doubt it, they're paranoid in different ways and about different things), or he's finally gone off the deep end. You got no fuckin' clue what it is he sees, and all you get is a whiff of something floral and herbal, out of place for him. So you'll amend that statement about him going off the deep end and instead just wonder how the fuck he could tell that before the door was even open.

Strider says let's go somewhere else and his voice is pitched real soft like someone is gonna hear him through the door. He says actually you're the one who might have to go somewhere else since she'll already know he's here since he opened the door, but she hasn't seen you so it's not too late for you if you make a run for it.

She. There's only one She you know that freaks anyone else so hard and if Snowman is in his fuckin' apartment you're pretty sure he wouldn't have suggested staying and you going. Actually, you're pretty damn sure that if Snowman was in his apartment you'd be down the hall already. Well, he might've wanted to stick it out, you figure he's the self-sacrificing kind like that but the boss wouldn't want him doing that, and what would he even do against her anyway.

You got no reason to run and you tell him this, and he says that's only because you haven't met her yet. Not Snowman. That's good. There's soft footsteps from inside and he tells you leave now or forever hold your peace. You tell him to quit being so dramatic. He tells you that you were warned, bro, and he's still being fuckin' dramatic since he sounds like a man going to the gallows. You're leaning more towards it being melodrama than genuine fear but you're also decently sure there's some real basis for the undercurrent of anxiety he's projecting, so you figure it might be best to stick around anyway. 

The door opens, and you look clear over the head of the short woman who did the opening for a second. Strider doesn't. She raises an eyebrow at him, and there's something in that dark-lipped smile of hers that gets your hackles up especially when it gets aimed your way. You think she's harmless for all of a half second before you see that smile and then you realize she's related to Strider, probably, so all she is, is trouble. You figure the boss might've lost his shit if this got sprung on him. There's something familiar about her that sets you on edge; you don't like it. 

Hello, dearest nephew, she says, right at Strider. Do come in, she says. Like it ain't his own damn apartment. His aunt, then. Huh. Her voice is all smooth and polite, real posh New York, you figure, and you've heard it a little grainy through the phone before. You knew what author Rose Lalonde sounded like, and you knew what she looked like once you'd gone and searched her up like a regular person. You didn't think she'd be this short, somehow. She doesn't seem it still, there's something about her that makes you consistently surprised she ain't looking down on you. Kinda like Slick, except she probably won't be stabbing you if you say you thought she was taller. Key word being probably. There's something about her you that sets you on edge. 

Strider steps in and tells her thanks, though he didn't know she was stopping by. This ain't a question, just an observation, though something in the way it's said puts a smile on her face. She looks nearly as smug as Strider when she does that. She says that's because she didn't tell him, but all's well since she has a key. He points out that he doesn't recall giving her one, and she says that didn't he give Roxy one? He just hums, and makes his way to the couch to sit.

You linger in the doorway instead, just watching her. She's got her back to you as she follows Strider to perch in the ugly-ass armchair he's got, and the thing nearly dwarfs her. There's a teaset on the coffee table with three cups and saucers and what you think is cream and sugar set out, pretty as you please. You didn't know Strider had any of that; from the look on his face, he didn't know it either. 

You offer to go 'cause your job's done and you sure didn't fuckin' anticipate this. Only solace is that Strider didn't either. She tells you to sit down, polite as anything. You don't think you have an option. You walk over and sit down. Next to Strider on the couch, a foot of space between you two. 

Strider examines his tea for a moment, and asks if she's brought the chamomile blend. She says of course, but this is blood orange and hibiscus, she thinks he'll like it. He just hums. He hopes she hasn't tried to poach any of his genmaicha. She doesn't like it so she'd never, and she says this reproachfully.

You don't really drink tea- you ain't a hot drink kinda guy, usually, nothing but coffee for when you gotta stay awake-, but you lift your cup and peer into the amber liquid. It smells sharp and sweet, a little like citrus and a lot floral. You take a sip, 'cause what the fuck else are you gonna do, and it's tarter than it smells, but it fades off into sweetness afterwards. Huh. Ain't actually that bad.

Neither of them touch their tea. You wonder if you should've bothered with yours, and then decide nah, you ain't part of whatever bizarre standoff is going on and you got offered tea so you'll drink it if you damn want to. You doubt it's poisoned. You really fuckin' hope it ain't poisoned. Strider asks to what he can owe this visit, all pointed but polite, and it startles you some 'cause he sounds a whole lot like her. You don't know why that's all surprising; they're related, they talk to each other fairly often from what you know. 

She asks if it's such a crime to visit her favorite nephew, and he tells her not to let Dave hear that else he'll cry. You don't think Dave Strider's gonna cry over not being this dame's favorite anything; from what you know about him, they might be tears of relief. You ain't sure being her favorite would be any kind of a good thing. 

She says it'll stay between them, of course, and Strider says of course, we can't go hurting Dave's feelings over something as small as this. She's glad they have an understanding about it. There's a pause, and you ain't required to say anything so you're keeping quiet on this one. You know you're gonna have to talk soon, and you know you're gonna have to figure out what the fuck to say, 'cause for all the pretense there's something about her that screams ulterior motives. Sure, your whole damn job is ulterior motives, but what that means is that you're the only one who's allowed to have them. 

She finally takes a sip of her tea, and Strider does the same right after. He says it's good, she says she's glad to hear it, in the voice of someone who's always right and just content that the rest of the world's finally realized it. She asks if you like it, she says she didn't think you drank tea at all- coffee, if anything-, but she thought it was likely worth the risk. You just tell her that it's good. You don't fuckin' like how on the money she is about this. Sure, Strider's grumbled shit about her knowing too much or just knowing everything, but he's so damn dramatic sometimes you just ignored it. Of fuckin' course the one time you ignore it, it turns out to be entirely accurate. 

You're gonna need to tell the boss to watch out for this one; you don't think she's gonna be satisfied with just having seen you. You don't know that the warning's gonna be enough, maybe you and Strider both are gonna need to be there as a distraction. Not- both for him. You for him, Strider for her. He's used to running this particular gauntlet real well, and you find it a little fuckin' unsettling, how easy he mirrors her and settles into this. There's something colder and sharper about him now and you note that for later, but not with real urgency; you know he can be real cutting when he wants to be. It's the familiarity of it to him that you find kinda strange. 

Strider breaks the quiet to ask when she got here, and she says only today, and he asks how long she's planning on staying. As long as necessary, she says, firm. His eyebrows raise slightly, and that's the only flicker of expression she gets from him. You stare down into your teacup. You realize you have no goddamn idea whether or not these two get along; on the phone you'd have said they liked each other just fine but there's something in the air right now and you can read a room more than fine but you've got no fuckin' clue what it is.

He asks after her wife and if she's in town too, and she says yes, they'd made this trip down together as Kanaya wished to visit a younger acquaintance of hers- Karkat Vantas, if Dirk knows him? He answers yes, he's friends with one of Zahhak's friends, but he doesn't know Karkat that well, and she says Kanaya's there now and you do know who Kanaya Maryam is tangentially speaking, since the Vantas kid has mentioned her before. 

You didn't know she was Lalonde's wife.

You do know the boss is visiting Karkat tonight. 

(You don't think Strider said a single thing to her about it, but you're gonna find out later anyway.)

This is a fucking set up, you realize. You're pretty sure the same thing is going through Strider's head- Slick usually visits Vantas the same time each week to check in for all that he ain't one for routine. She watches you and you know you ain't imagining the satisfaction in her eyes when she sees you piece it all together. She's looking at you like she thought you'd have done it sooner. 

She says to Strider that she thinks he'd get along alright with Karkat, and Strider just cocks an eyebrow at her and asks when has he ever gotten along alright with anyone in the kinda arrogant tone that'd get someone stabbed in the wrong company and start a fight in the right one. You forget how goddamn insolent he can be sometimes, and you still ain't sure where he gets it from.

By the look on his aunt's face, it ain't her, but she's at least amused by it. 

She says he's managed to get along alright with two fellows who, by all accounts, it's terribly difficult to get along with. Strider shrugs and says he likes a challenge, like that's all it is. You narrow your eyes at him and you gotta take a sip of your damn tea before you say anything stupid. His face is fuckin' unreadable, more so than usual, and you wonder again what kind of relationship they have that's got him like that when she seems properly unbothered. 

She agrees, mild, and adds that he's always courted catastrophe. Not quite as literally as this, he tells her, and there's a razor-edge in his faint smile. You wonder if this is him angry. 

She asks if he admits that this is catastrophe then, and he says hardly, but if anyone could count as a one-man hurricane, it'd be Slick. She says she's never met Mr. Slick so she wouldn't know, and you can't hide a dry laugh. Mr. Slick. You're gonna have to start calling him that just to see his face. You glance over at Strider and his mouth twitches so you figure that means he's amused and on board. 

He says that if she meets him and calls him that, she'll find out. She asks if that's a promise, and Strider says he's not in the habit of making promises for other people. Isn't he, she wants to know. He isn't, he confirms, least of all Slick. He says that she should meet him, though, and she says all in due time. You disagree with this completely but don't say anything; you're gonna warn the boss and that'll be that.

Strider looks at her for a moment and says that she'd better not needle him too much. His voice is flat and authoritative and you ain't ever heard him talk like that. You watch him closer but his face ain't doing anything either, even if he's staring right at her. It's real fuckin' tense. This is not what you signed up for. Hell, you don't even know what this is. 

She says she'll handle him with care. Strider just hums, noncommittal, and something in the air relaxes. You get to nearly relax before her gaze slides right over to you and if you were second-hand tense before you're first-hand tense now 'cause she's looking at you like you're a bug under a dissecting microscope and she's got a scalpel in hand. She looks like she can see right through you and you despise it immediately, in principle and in practice. She looks at you like she knows exactly who the fuck you are and then she dismisses you all the same, like you ain't a threat, like you couldn't snap her neck if you had to. 

When she finally breaks the silence it's not much better. She says she wasn't aware you shared your brother's preferences for older men, Dirk, and you nearly touch at the grey that's creeping into your temples that you know Slick fuckin' put there early stressing you the fuck out. You need to dye it out. He's younger than you, Aunt Rose, Strider says and he sounds too damn amused. He's recovered real well from earlier now that she's got another- victim. Not that you've ever been a victim a day in your goddamn life but you ain't sure how else to describe it. Plaything, maybe, except that's just the same thing. You play along, though. For now.

She looks at you for a moment and you say you're only five years or so older than Strider, but you ain't gonna be so gauche as to calculate how much younger than her you are. She just hums and then asks Strider how he managed to seduce a well-mannered man such as yourself, given his usual eschewing of social norms. He tells her that he can mind his manners he just chooses not to, but that you think he's pretty and it helps him get away with a lot. You're pretty damn sure he's batting his lashes behind those shades. He asks if his last Mother's Day gift to her went unappreciated, and her smile tightens slightly and she says of course not, dear, the magnification on that mirror ensures she applies her make-up with the utmost precision. 

He asks if the tinting on it helps any with distinguishing colors. He knows a lot of the dark purples she uses tend to blend together sometimes. He says that one after a beat. You don't think he got the mirror for any eyeshadow-related reasons. You keep your mouth shut about that, because you have manners and if Strider's gonna dig his own grave you ain't hopping in it for the sake of a damn chuckle.

She tells him that the gift is lovely so there's no need to be insecure about whether he likes it or not. He says he's never been insecure about gift-giving since he knows he does it well. You figure that's a huge fuckin' lie, at least the first part of it. You ain't gotten any gifts from him; maybe you should drop a mention about your birthday, even though you don't celebrate it. See what he'd do. 

You take another sip of tea. You still don't much like her looking at you but you're getting used to it. You're nearly out of tea but you ain't gonna be asking for any more, however good it is. You're looking forward to finishing this and going the fuck home to have a bath and a smoke and maybe break out your Grey Ladies to peruse in the tub, you figure you deserve that much this evening. 

Which of course ain't gonna happen 'cause Strider has a habit of throwing a wrench in your plans, and apparently the fuckin' trait runs in the family. You finish your tea just in time for her to stand up and brush her skirt off and announce that it's rather late, as she makes her way over to Strider. His eyebrows raise a fraction, and he looks at her with the kind of suspicion that makes you suspicious too.

Why don't you escort me to the hotel, Mr. Droog, she says. It ain't a suggestion, for all that you've never been Mr. Droog a single goddamn day of your life. Diamonds, Droog, you-cold-fuckin'-sonuvabitch and other profanities, sure. Mr. Droog? Nah. Not even for your tailor. You're classy, sure, but you ain't trying to pretend to be something you're not. Strider mouths an apology at you, and you really wish you'd taken that damn out. Instead, you just stand up and offer her your arm. She presses a kiss to Strider's forehead, leaving a perfect black kiss mark there, and then rests her hand real light on your elbow. Strider stands to escort you both to the door, and you suspect he might be pitying you some. Normally that'd rankle but after just listening to 'em talk you're pretty fuckin' sure you'd pity yourself if you were that kinda man. As is, you steel yourself and decide you're gonna have a drink too when you get home, and that Strider's damn apartment is more dangerous than whatever the fuck he might find walking home alone. 

Strider walks the both of you on over to the door. Normally you'd get a kiss or some shit but he doesn't even try it, and you figure that's fair not in front of his aunt, you'll just need to collect later. You want to say he fuckin' owes you for this but he'd told you to go. He was right, you'd been warned. You still think he'll feel guilty. You'll see how much you wanna milk that one, if at all. So you don't lean in or anything and you just wish him good night and he tells you the same, with a look that tacks on good fuckin' luck you poor bastard at the end of it. You've been on the receiving end of a lotta looks from him before, but that ain't one. You don't care for the novelty.

You start walking anyway, keeping your pace leisurely 'cause she's a decent amount shorter than you- hell, she might even be shorter than the boss come to think of it- and you don't wanna make her rush, it'd be rude. She lets go of your arm to make her way down the stairs, her heels clicking pleasantly against the plain concrete. You follow on behind her, hands tucked into your pockets. She ain't talking as much as you thought she would and you decide this is a good thing, but something about her silence feels real calculated. You don't mind letting her do the math, even if the math is all figuring out whether or not you're gonna talk first. You ain't.

Mr. Droog, she says. You wait for her to keep going and you keep quiet. You figure she's the type where talking is gonna get you into more trouble than it's worth.

Mr. Droog, she says again. She has something she needs to tell you, and it seems most prudent to do that now. Dirk's brother might be willing to accept this as his choice and be optimistic, but she's not going to be that easy to convince. 

This requires an answer, you think. You don't give a shit whether she's easy to convince or not, you don't plan on doing any convincing. You don't say this. 

You tell her that you met the other Strider for all of ten seconds so it wasn't you doing any convincing. You tell her the boss ain't personable so if Dave Strider was convinced of anything it'd have to be Strider doing the convincing.

She concedes that yes, Dirk can be terribly persuasive when he wants to be, except she says it in a way that ain't even remotely a compliment. It's like how some poor bleeding fucker who just talked might say that Slick's real persuasive. You think that's fair, except Strider's maybe nicer about it.

She's determined, though. She says she doubts that you have any real plans on getting on her good side. It's true so you just keep quiet. She says that's interesting given how you want to be on Dirk's.

You say you don't and it ain't, and she gives you the same damn half-smirk Strider does when he thinks you're being real fuckin' dense. She says you sat through that tea for a reason, and you're walking her here for a reason, like you ever had a chance to say no. You tell her not to confuse good manners for goodwill. She says she knows the difference between the two and there's a flash of teeth in her smile to prove it. 

She says that she's important to Strider and you ask is that how people who are important to one another act. She says yes, of course. She adds that she and Dirk are similar, perhaps a little too much so, and it's disconcerting for him. You don't think she tries to make it easier. You tell her this.

She says of course not. She doesn't pity him, after all. Not when he learned plenty from her. You want to know what he learned beyond how to talk properly and sharpen his tongue on some asshole's thin skin, but you don't ask. 

Instead you say you don't know much about her wife even from what you hear from Vantas. Should be a safe topic. You ain't sure if you pity Maryam yourself but you might after this. You ain't heard anything bad about her, you don't think you're about to. 

She hums, like she knows you're trying to change the topic and is letting you get away with it. She says that Kanaya is a talented seamstress, that she has a penchant for terrible romance novels. That she's the love of her life, really. She asks if you know what that's like, but she doesn't sound pointed just curious and you say yes. You've been in love with Slick since before you knew what that meant. You don't tell her that. She nods like she knows anyway. She says that Kanaya asked her out first on a date, and that their relationship was rather rocky for a while. She used to drink, she says. A lot, she says. You hadn't pegged her for that, but you don't think she's saying it just to say it. She was younger then, and stupider, and it nearly cost her everything. She adds that when she and Dave met for the first time, she was almost as much of a mess as he is.

You tell her flat out that you don't buy it. She pats your arm, condescending, and says motherhood changed her a lot and she allowed it. But she's getting off topic, now- you'd asked about Kanaya, and she'd hate to dodge a question. You ignore that unsubtle hint completely. You figure your way of dodging questions is easier than hers and Strider's and his brother's since it requires no talking. Probably less effective than the boss's, since it requires no stabbing. You're pretty sure Strider doesn't want his aunt getting stabbed, and even if she wasn't his aunt and stabbing was your style, it'd be nothing but more trouble.

She informs you that her wife is terribly proficient with a chainsaw, let alone a pair of seam rippers. She says that she isn't inclined to such things herself and that you shouldn't worry. You ain't worried. The chainsaw is bigger than Lalonde, and from what you know of Maryam, she wouldn't waste either of those on you. It's very loud, she says. She gets migraines and she finds the noise and mess unbearable. Dirk gets them too, she says, but he's far more stubborn about it. You didn't know that, but you gotta admit it sounds like him. She says that she has a herbal tea that helps hers, though, so it isn't all that bad. She grows the herbs herself.

You aren't one for gardening; you have a lone orchid in your apartment and it's flourished against all odds. You don't tell her this, but you make an appropriately impressed noise. She's getting at something, you know. She's like Strider that way, real circuitous about it, all implication. Least Strider comes right out and says it. 

She tells you that in England there's a castle with a poison garden in it, intended to educate visitors on the properties of the plants. She says that there's plenty commonplace ones there too, deadly if you know how to use them. She says that apothecary gardens are a long-running tradition, but that poison gardens as such even date back to the Medicis in Florence, since they were quite adept at poisoning. She says that the one in England is the only contemporary one coined a poison garden, but that there's many others around which focus on both poisons and medicinal plants. She wants you to know that should you ever find yourself in the United Kingdom, you might find a visit educational.

Her hand is very light on your arm.

You get why the boss is so fuckin' paranoid about what he eats and drinks- better than you did before. 

You tell her you'll keep all that in mind but that you don't know you'll ever make it to England. You aren't sure the weather's for you. You don't much like the rain.

It isn't for everyone, she says, but it's also not as bad as people like to say. Winters can be dreary, but that's true of where she lives. The summers are lovely. She spent some of her honeymoon there.

You can't see yourself honeymooning, and you tell her that. She just nods, in the corner of your vision. Men like you never can, she says. It's true but you don't know what the fuck she means by it, and that makes you bristle. 

Instead you just say you ain't one for travel in general since you can relax fine at home. 

Boring, is all she has to say to that. Then a moment later: She understands you need to take peace where you can find it. You ain't sure why the insight is shocking anymore, maybe it's that this one isn't unpleasant. 

It's quiet for a moment and this time you don't let yourself relax into it. She's gonna blindside you and you know it.

She sighs, and straightens up all prim next to you. You brace yourself.

She says that she isn't like her brother, but that sometimes you need to put certain things aside and do what needs to be done, and you don't tell her that you don't know shit about her brother. She says that Dirk thinks the same way, though she's tried to ensure that he can protect himself without resorting to that. You still don't know what _that_ is, but now you know what to look for you can pick out the way she talks in the way Strider does, the way she analyses the situation in the same. 

You keep quiet.

She says Dirk is his own person now and she understands that he is allowed to make his own choices and mistakes. She says it like she's already decided which one of those you are. It makes your blood fuckin' boil, if you're honest. You keep your damn mouth shut. You ignore the implication that he wasn't his own person before; Strider strikes you as someone who knows exactly who he is, the good and especially the bad and the ugly. Maybe to the point where he can't get out of his damn head about it. He knows what the fuck he's doing and you ain't keeping him anywhere he doesn't wanna be.

She says that while you've been nothing but polite, manners can hide a lot. You concede that this is true; she looks too fuckin' pleased with your three word answer. She says that she trusts Dirk will make the right decisions in the end but she wants to make it absolutely clear that he is not to get hurt because of you. She adds that she knows he believes you'll do your best to avoid it. It ain't a consolation. You know he thinks that. She knows you know it. 

It's like she's gone and looked right inside your head at every fuckin' time you've thought about how this is gonna end, no two ways about it, and yanked them all out to peruse at her fuckin' leisure. It's like she's gone and pored over each time you've wondered if you're gonna end up hurting him and how bad and if it'll be the boss doing it himself or telling you to, or if it's gonna be neither of you and he's just gonna get caught up in some shit. Slick doesn't know you think about this shit, and that's 'cause he ain't ever gonna think about it himself- to him, it's black-and-white simple, nothing's gonna happen to Strider 'cause he ain't gonna let it right now. But it's your fuckin' job to think about the shit that he doesn't. That neither of them do, when it comes right down to it, 'cause Strider carries himself like nothing can fuckin' touch him, and he trusts himself first and then Slick afterwards to make sure that it's true, and that just ain't gonna work forever. 

She looks at you and she doesn't say anything but the look on her face is asking you whether or not you're fuckin' worth that trust and you know what she thinks the answer is. She looks at you like she's waiting for you to shove a knife into his ribs right in front of her, like she'll look him dead in the eye and say she told him so. 

(You can picture it, too. You ain't ever had to picture Slick getting hurt 'cause he just did, and he ain't never been hurt as bad as he's been with Snowman. And you wouldn't have pictured that on your own. Strider, though. You can see him broken and bleeding if you think about it hard enough, shot and limp, his eyes dead. You can see him with that knife in his ribs and you don't even think there's gonna be real surprise on his face when it happens. You think about the scars on his chest and his back and you wonder why the fuck he would be.)

Your jaw is so tight it almost hurts. You can't be pissed at her 'cause she's right and you're a logical man, damn you for being that way. 

Thing is, she hasn't made any real threats. Not beyond the poison shit but you figure if she wanted you poisoned she ain't gonna have much chance for it. That wasn't a threat so much as it was just trivia about it and you don't know what to do with that. This is her talking to you and it feels like she's reading your mind while she does it, and you fuckin' hate that. 

She's quiet for a second and then she asks if you plan on asking him to hurt anyone. It ain't the kinda thing you plan for. You tell her you don't think you'd need to ask, he'd hurt someone if he had to.

She gives you a look, impatient in a way you don't understand, and then tells you that isn't the right answer. 

You don't think there is a right answer to that question. You don't say that. You don't say anything. That's also not the right fuckin' answer but at least she keeps talking.

She wants to know what Dirk has told you about her brother. That's easy, you say. Nothing, you say. Finally an easy goddamn question.

She looks surprised for a moment and you're meanly satisfied by that. Ain't much to feel good about, though. You tell her that if Strider wanted you to know he'd tell you. She laughs and says it's never been that easy with him. You don't have anything to say to that. You don't fuckin' think she wants you to have anything to say to that. You want a smoke, you want to bash someone's head in, you want to feel the recoil of your gun shooting right up your arm and feel the ache afterwards. You don't want to hear her voice anymore. You don't tell her any of this.

Instead you say you don't know what her brother has to do with you. And maybe you're being deliberately fuckin' obtuse here to get under her skin just as much as she's gettin' under yours, but it ain't working.

She says that he doesn't have anything to do with you, and that it's a good thing. That makes even less sense, but you don't tell her that. She asks if you want to know about her brother. She says you'll understand her specific line of questioning if she explains it. 

She never calls him Strider's father. She strikes you as the kinda dame to be real precise about this. 

You- are more tempted than you wanna admit. 

Fuck her, fuck her and her fuckin' leading questions, and her looking at you like she can goddamn tell what you're thinking. She knows you want to know, since your fool self went and said that you didn't. She knows that the boss knows already, else she'd never have assumed you did. Hell, maybe she knew you didn't know and did all this to get a fuckin' rise outta you.

You have a sudden insight into why Strider is the way he is sometimes. You thank fuck he doesn't play head games with you and the boss like this.

(You think he plays plenty of 'em with folks like angry chess guy, but that ain't your business.)

You fuckin' hate when people go outta their way to get on your nerves. Normally it's real hard to get a rise outta you- you're Diamonds Droog, you ain't the brains of the operation but that's only 'cause you've got your hands full making sure shit runs smooth and feathers get unruffled, and what that means is that you don't fuckin' let shit like this get to you. What it means is you take all and box it up and shoot it six times into the next poor fuck to cross you that you gotta get rid of, where no one else can see it.

None of that is a fuckin' option here. You really want a damn cigarette right now.

Don't worry, she says, sweet and smug as anything. She doesn't expect you to answer now, and she's in town for a few days in any event. She thanks you for escorting her, but she can go the rest of the way on her own, it isn't far.

You insist you'll see her to her hotel, smooth as anything. She knows she rattled you but she ain't gotta know how much, even if you've got a sneaking goddamn suspicion she already does. You said you would, and you ain't a liar, after all. She says she wouldn't make you into one.

The rest of the walk is quiet. Thankfully. You ain't ever wanted someone to quit talking to you so bad, and she ain't even batted a lash about who you are or how fuckin' easy you could get rid of her if you wanted to. You gotta admire that kinda fearlessness. You think on anyone else you'd call it recklessness but she's so calm about it like she knows she could take you that it'd make you think twice, if you were thinking seriously about that. You don't know what it is she's got up her sleeve but you figure you gotta find out. 

She tells you good night, Mr. Droog, as you come to a stop in front of the hotel she's been leading you to the whole time. You tell her good night back, curt, and ignore the smile that pulls at the corners of her mouth. She's won this and she didn't even need to lift a damn finger and she knew it. You fish your cigarette case out of your pocket and get one out. 

You have a smoke clamped between your teeth before she's even through the sliding doors of the hotel, and it's lit by the time she's outta sight. 

You're halfway back to your apartment and a cigarette and a half down when you realize who the fuck it is she reminds you of, and the thought almost makes you stop dead, 'cause there's no fuckin' way those two are connected. You'd know. Someone'd know. 

But connected or not, you ain't gonna let the boss meet her, no matter what. You'll get Strider to help you with this one if you need it. 

Your phone rings, like it's on a damn cue, and you pick it up to Slick's hissy voice. He doesn't sound like he's flipping the fuck out, which is better than you expected.

Alright. This is a situation you can handle. 

(You think.)

You're not gonna ask her. You ain't fucking asking her shit. You tell yourself that for the rest of the night, but it sits real heavy and outta place in the back of your skull, waiting.

**Author's Note:**

> I love Rose. Rose is scary. Rose is, in this verse, Bro's younger sister. She is going to be scarier. End of story.


End file.
